


A Last Visit

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: Cousland, the younger years [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5078794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate and Regan have been getting closer and closer.  A week before her birthday party, Regan visits Amaranthine and spends most of her time with Nate, revealing that her mother has yet another suitor for her to meet.  What happens when he comes up with a way he thinks will keep her from dealing with this particular ass?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Last Visit

**Author's Note:**

> I can't even tell you how long ago this was written. I haven't even read this in ages, so I'm sure there are glaring errors.   
> This also pretty much throws the ages/birthdates of some of these characters totally out the window, but I don't really care. O=)

She’d managed to convince her father to send her to Amaranthine for a week as a birthday present, _without_ her brother and his wife. She still had a contingent of knights, including Ser Isaac, but the newly knighted Ser Gilmore had been kept at Highever. Her friend had recently earned his full knighthood and was already in charge of the weapons-training classes for the other squires. Fergus had even taken to helping him out and it often took the both of them to keep the students in line. Bryce, Eleanor, and Oriana, also remained in Highever in an attempt to show Regan that they _did_ think her old enough to travel without their supervision.

 

It was the last full day of her trip; in the morning, she and the knights would head back to Highever for the annual birthday banquet that her mother planned. Everyone would be making their way to Highever for the celebration and Regan was sure that Eleanor planned to try and play matchmaker, yet again. No matter how much she complained, the girl could not convince her mother to give up the attempts at finding her a husband. She was just turning fifteen. There was _plenty_ of time for her to find someone to marry … someone she _loved_ , not someone her mother thought would be a good fit.

 

“You’ll be there, right?” Regan murmured lazily. The afternoon sun managed to trickle through the treetops, letting little bright shapes dance across the lounging form of the boy next to her. The pair had spent the day together, as they had for most of the week. Every day, they had disappeared from the Keep as early as possible and stayed out until the sun was ready to set. Today, they had taken their horses out and investigated the nearby woods, coming across the stream they now listened to running alongside their resting spot.

 

“I promise. You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Nathaniel replied, propping himself up on one arm to look over at her. “I’m still plotting the perfect gift, after all.” He watched as the patches of light shifted over her, thanks to the wind through the trees. He’d have to make sure to remember this spot; it would be a good place to hide from both Thomas and Delilah when she was around. Ever since that afternoon in the hayloft, he found himself looking forward to the time they could spend together. The kiss hadn’t made things too awkward between them, for which he was thankful, even though it did mean he had to fight down jealous feelings every time she talked about Roland Gilmore’s recent promotion to knight. In fact, it just gave them something else to do together; they still spent their time doing the same things they always had. They just took a little time out here and there to enjoy each other’s company, now.

 

“The perfect gift?” Regan repeated, smirking up at him. “That would be making your brother leave me alone and convincing your sister that I _don’t_ want to be her personal doll.” She closed her eyes and sighed contently. She would be happy spending the rest of her trip right here, with him. Thomas _still_ had it in his head that he was going to marry her, despite her repeated assurances that she would rather marry a toad. Thankfully, her parents _both_ agreed the youngest Howe would not be a good match. Delilah, despite being several years older, seemed to think of Regan as a toy, meant for little more than games of dress-up. If she hated her own mother putting her in dress after dress, what made a Howe think she’d let _her_ do it?

 

“That could be arranged,” Nathaniel joked, leaning down for the quick kiss he’d been wanting since they stopped in this shaded grotto. He wished he could take credit for leading them there, but it had been completely by accident. He hadn’t even known it existed. They’d been chasing frogs; the cook had offered them a silver for every one they could bring him and Regan had no trouble traipsing through the dirty creek looking for them. Already during her trip, she had earned ten silver, just from catching frogs.

 

She made a questioning noise just before returning the kiss, reaching up to play with his hair. She’d relaxed more and more after that first kiss, and while there were boys in Highever that tried, the only one she’d been willing to kiss, so far, was Nathaniel. Regan was proud of her progress, thanks to his careful instruction, and she was fairly certain he enjoyed it as well. The fact that he kept sneaking little kisses here and there seemed to indicate as much. When they broke apart, she grinned up at the boy. “Well, either that, or convince my mother that I do _not_ need to marry Vaughan Kendalls.”

 

Wait, what? Her mother wanted her to marry _Vaughan?_ Surely he hadn’t heard correctly. “What do you mean?” Nathaniel asked, looking surprised. “What was that about Vaughan?” Of all the people her mother could think of to contemplate a marriage contract with, she was thinking about _Vaughan_? If the stories around Denerim could be believed, Urien Kendall’s eldest was not someone you would want your daughter around. There were several stories of Vaughan’s women showing up with bruises and broken bones after a night with the man. Plus, he was even older than Fergus! Why would Eleanor even _think_ about marrying Regan to that man?

 

“Mother is on another one of her marriage crusades,” Regan sighed, sitting up to stare out at the water. She was glad she had someone to talk about this to here. She couldn’t talk to Fergus; his arranged marriage was doing splendidly, so he didn’t understand her problem with it. Roland was kept so busy now that he was a knight that she hardly had a chance to talk to him, except during weapons training, and there were too many people around then to have a personal discussion. There was no way she was going to talk to Oriana about it; the woman was nice enough, but understood _nothing_ about her. “I think father convinced her that marrying me off to some noble in Starkhaven was a bad idea; supposedly there were _rumors_ of his behavior. But now, she’s talking about Vaughan like he’s this special thing.”

 

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Eleanor was talking about sending her daughter to marry that abusive monster? He tried to picture Regan kowtowing to the arl of Denerim’s son and failed miserably. He _could_ picture her battered and bruised as a result of talking back to the man; she had always been adamant about being treated as an equal; something he had no problem with. But Vaughan … he would hate having a woman stand up to him, if the rumors were true. There _had_ to be a way to stop it. He was so lost in trying to figure out how he could keep her away from Vaughan that he didn’t notice her speaking again. In fact, he didn’t notice anything until he found himself soaking wet. “What was that for?”

 

She couldn’t help it. She’d gone on for a bit, complaining about her mother’s seemingly endless quest to marry her off already. But when she’d finally bored of that topic and asked him what he wanted to do for the rest of the afternoon, he didn’t respond. In fact, he looked so glassy-eyed she’d thought he’d fallen asleep with his eyes open somehow. So she’d done the first thing that came to mind; she pushed him, gently, into the stream. She knew it was safe; they’d been frogging through it recently, so there was no danger he’d get hurt. Laughing at the soggy look of surprise on his face, she moved to kneel on the bank and reached out a hand. “You looked like you were asleep,” she replied innocently. “It was the safest way I could think of to wake you up.”

 

“I was not asleep,” he grumbled, reaching out for her hand. Instead of letting her think she was helping him out of the water, however, he pulled her toward him, grinning as she grabbed his arms to keep from face-planting into the stream. “I am, however, now all wet.” He grinned at the disgruntled look on her face, reaching up to brush a bit of hair from her eyes. “I was trying to think of a way to stop your mother’s eternal marriage quest.”

 

“Oh, don’t bother,” Regan grumped, reaching up to bat his hand away. She didn’t mind that he’d pulled her in; she’d been expecting it, really. But she didn’t really want to think about having to deal with Vaughan at some banquet. “Once mother gets her mind set on something, there’s no stopping her. Father will do his best, I’m sure.” She twisted her way out of his arms with a wink, and darted off down the creek, kicking up water as she sloshed along. It was far harder to outrun someone when she wasn’t on dry ground, but she didn’t _really_ want to outrun him, anyway.

 

Sure enough, she hadn’t gotten more than a dozen steps when she felt familiar arms wrap around her, pulling her against him. It had become a game, of sorts; she’d run off, and he would chase her. They’d tried it the other way around, but she still wasn’t quite fast enough to catch him, though he was sure that that would change in a few years. He spun her around and lifted her up, letting her wrap her arms around his shoulders. The kiss was meant to be quick, but once their lips touched, something other than sense took over. They were so engrossed in each other that they didn’t notice the snap of a twig nearby or the rustling of leaves as someone ran off.

 

“Shall we keep exploring?” Regan eventually asked as she was returned to her feet. “I think I heard some of the people in the city say there were some caves near here.” As much as she enjoyed the stream and the shade of the trees, there had to be more places they could hide from Thomas; he’d eventually find them here, she was sure. The boy was nothing if not determined. When Nathaniel nodded, they climbed back onto dry land and mounted their horses, trotting off, further away from the Keep.

 

They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring, coming across another cluster of trees that would make a good hiding spot, as well as the caves Regan had heard about. They started to explore deeper, but thought better of it not too far in. It was already getting late, and if they got too far underground, they’d never know when it was time to head back. One of the conditions of Regan’s freedom was that she _not_ be late for evening check in. So they headed back to the Keep, Nathaniel hatching a plan to hopefully keep her out of Vaughan’s hands.

 

Dinner that evening was a somber affair for Nathaniel; it meant that he would soon be stuck dealing with his younger brother’s whining all alone. It was harder for him to escape Thomas when Regan wasn’t around. He didn’t have the excuse of supposedly trying to convince her to marry the youngest Howe. It also meant that he had to work quickly if he wanted to keep her mother from marrying her off to Vaughan Kendalls. Not even Delilah deserved _that_ fate. He didn’t notice the dark glowers that Thomas was shooting across the table at him, and resolved to speak with his father as soon as possible, after Regan was gone. He wanted to spend as much time with her as he could until then.

 

The rest of the evening was spent on the training grounds, much to his amusement. He watched as Regan beat Thomas time and again in the ring. Her skill with her blades far surpassed the youngest Howe, as well as his own. But he could still outshoot her with the bow; that was one weapon he excelled at. When the time came to show off his skills, both he and Regan bested Thomas, who stormed off threatening to tell their father. Though Nathaniel also bested Regan, she took the defeat with much more grace, trying to get him to explain what he’d done in order to better her own handling of the weapon.

 

The next morning, Regan and Nathaniel found themselves at the training grounds again, grumpily packing up the weapons they’d left scattered about the night before. “I guess we’re lucky it didn’t rain, huh?” Regan smirked, tossing another shield into the pile. “Your father would have a fit if his expensive training equipment got rusty.” She really couldn’t believe that she’d actually left blades out; Roland would flog her if he knew.

 

Nathaniel just grinned and picked up the last of the blades. He was glad they’d left the weapons out. It gave him a chance to spend a little more time with her. She was due to leave within the hour, and neither wanted the time to go quickly. He knew she wasn’t looking forward to spending the time traveling with Ser Isaac and his brood; they never let her do anything but sit in the carriage. It always astounded him how many people forgot she was quite capable of handling herself. “Your birthday is in two weeks, right?” he asked as they walked back toward the courtyard.

 

“Yup. Mother’s got the castle staff preparing already,” Regan sighed, shaking her head. “If she uses this as another excuse to introduce me to some nobleman’s son, I think I might just storm out.” She grabbed his arm and looked up into his eyes, batting her lashes. “You’ll save me from having to dance with annoying boys, won’t you, Nate?” She ignored the soft thumping of her heart as she waited for his response; surely it was just her imagination, right?

 

“Of course I will,” he laughed, feeling a shiver run down his spine. She was staring up at him with those green eyes, and all he could think of was how much he wanted to keep her happy. “I’m sure I can get Thomas to help too,” he teased, trying to do something … anything to still the nervous flutters in his stomach. He shouldn’t be this off-kilter around her, should he? He’d never been this fluttery around anyone.

 

“You do that and I’ll …I’ll …” Regan frowned as she tried to come up with a fitting threat. She knew he was kidding; at least, she hoped he was. He knew she couldn’t stand his brother. “Or I’ll make sure to send Christine your way for every dance,” she finally said, flashing an evil looking grin. She knew Darrien’s sister was interested in Nathaniel; she had been for years. But the girl was as deep as a raindrop, and the one afternoon Nate had spent with her had been plenty in his opinion.

 

“You wouldn’t dare,” he grumbled, twisting around to pick his companion up. When she laughed, he leaned in to sneak a quick kiss before remembering that they were in the open, where anyone, including his brother, could see. “I will do my very best to make sure you take as much of my time as you want, little Regan,” he promised as they made their way into the courtyard.

 

And then, it was time for her to go. Nathaniel watched as Ser Isaac escorted her to the carriage and latched the door. He watched as the knights mounted their horses and the gate was opened. He watched as they made their way through, the carriage in the middle of the procession of Highever shields. And he watched as she leaned out the window and waved like a madwoman. There _had_ to be a way to keep her out of Vaughan’s hands, right? Wait …. Her mother wanted her to marry a nobleman, right? And she was considering the Arl of Denerim’s son … why wouldn’t she consider the Arl of Amaranthine’s son? “Where’s father?” Nathaniel demanded, whirling to face the nearest groom.

 

“I … I believe the arl is in his study,” the groom stammered, momentarily taken off guard by the abrupt questioning.

 

Nathaniel hastily thanked the groom and ran into the throne room, carelessly dodging the staff that got in his way. He needed to do this before he lost his nerve. He couldn’t let her be married off to Vaughan; he just couldn’t. And that would be the perfect birthday gift for her. It would take care of all of her wishes at once: Thomas wouldn’t be able to pester her about marrying him; Delilah would leave her alone _and_ her mother would no longer need to harp on the whole marriage contract thing. It was a perfect plan.

 

“Father, I need to speak with you,” Nathaniel said as he pushed his way into his father’s study. He didn’t seem to notice Thomas stalking out of the room. He was too focused on deciding what to say to his father. He also didn’t notice the daggers Thomas’ glower seemed to be shooting at his back as the door swung closed.

 

“What do you want, Nathaniel?” Rendon sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes. It was early and he’d already had a long day. The Cousland girl was finally on her way home, much to his relief. If he had to take one more day of listening to the castle staff complain about the mud that girl and Nathaniel tracked in, or the soldiers go on and on about how good she already was with her blades, he thought his head would explode. But she was gone, and he wouldn’t have to hear about her again, for two weeks, anyway.

 

He should have stopped, said he’d come back later. But Nathaniel was too focused on getting his request out. He didn’t seem to notice the mood his father was in. “I want to ask for your permission to approach Teyrn Cousland for his daughter’s hand.” It made sense, to him, for the eldest son of the Arl of Amaranthine to marry the youngest Cousland. Their families were friends, after all. She already liked him. He couldn’t think of anyone he cared for more. It was a win-win situation for both families.

 

“Absolutely not,” Rendon snapped. Maker, he was tired of hearing about this bloody girl. Why did Bryce’s daughter have men seemingly fighting over her when his own daughter was still unmarried? Regan couldn’t hold a candle to Delilah’s beauty, so why did this … child already have men fighting to wed her? “It’s bad enough that the two of you spend all your time together when she’s here. I will not have you sullying our line with their blood.”

 

“But father,” Nathaniel frowned, surprised at the adamant refusal. “It makes sense. We’ve known them for years; you and her father fought alongside King Maric, for Andraste’s sake!” He started pacing, trying to get his brain moving fast enough to come up with a convincing enough argument to sway his father. “She and I already like each other, so that wouldn’t be a problem. It would expand our holdings, obviously, and open up new trade routes. It makes sense.”

 

“I said no, Nathaniel,” Rendon snapped, wishing he could just cover his ears. He was _so_ bloody tired of hearing about the Cousland girl. It just needed to stop. His staff, his soldiers, his youngest son and now, even Nathaniel would _not_ stop talking about her. “I do not want you to even _think_ about marrying that brat,” he finally snarled, cutting off the boy’s pleas. “If any Howe was going to be presented as a possible husband, it would be your brother. Thomas has already asked me for her hand.” He hadn’t necessarily given the boy permission, but when the child had stormed into his office and complained that he’d seen Nathaniel and Regan in the woods together, the possibility was the only way he could shut the boy up.

 

“Thomas?” Nathaniel exclaimed, shaking his head. “She _hates_ him. There’s no way Regan would ever consent to marry Thomas.” He knew for a fact that Thomas had no hope, whatsoever, of convincing the girl, let alone her parents. He _needed_ to change his father’s mind. He needed his father to see that _he_ was the smarter choice. “I … Father, I think I love her!” Why did he just say that? Was it true? Did he really love her? Yes … yes, he was fairly certain he did. He hadn’t mentioned any of this to _her_ , yet, but he was sure she’d rather marry him … especially when compared to Vaughan or Thomas. “And I think she loves me too.”

 

Love? Oh, he’d _really_ never hear the end of it if that was the case. Thomas would think it was a personal attack. Besides, Nathaniel was proving to be too headstrong. He’d never do as told when it came to the girl, or Highever. “I said no, Nathaniel,” Rendon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Thomas would be far more biddable, and therefore would be the perfect choice for any marriage contract. “That is my decision, and you _will_ abide by it.”

 

“You’re being unreasonable, father,” Nathaniel sighed, realizing that no amount of arguing would sway his father. That left only one thing. He wondered if the Couslands would take in their daughter’s husband as they had Fergus’ wife. “If you won’t give me your consent, I’ll go myself and ask Teyrn Cousland. Regan deserves someone who loves and respects her, not someone who will beat her for being who she is.” With that, he turned and stalked out, heading to his room to gather what little he would need for the trip. He would give his father until the morning to come around. Then, if things hadn’t changed, he would take his horse and head to Highever. He tried to imagine the look on her face when he showed up without his family and asked for her hand. She’d think he was joking at first, surely. But he would show her … he would make sure she knew it wasn’t a joke. He spent the rest of the day in his room, unwilling to argue with his father, or brother, any longer.

 

The next morning, Nathaniel was prepared to face his father … to find out if Rendon Howe had realized how much sense it made for the elder Howe son to marry Regan. But when he left his room, he was surprised to find two guards stationed outside his door. He was even more surprised when they grabbed him by the arms and practically dragged him to the courtyard. There, he saw an enclosed carriage, the windows covered by thick cloth that appeared far too rigid to be natural. “What’s going on?” he demanded, struggling to free himself.

 

“Did you really think I would let you bark threats at me, son?” Rendon sighed as he came out from behind the carriage. He looked tired as he approached his son, shaking his head. “You’ve grown too willful, Nathaniel. You’re going back to the Free Marches.” He nodded to the guards, who proceeded to shove the boy into the carriage unceremoniously. “You will stay there until you learn to respect your father. And you will _not_ be marrying that Cousland trash.” He turned to the driver and gave his final instructions before stalking back into the Keep, praying for one day free of the Cousland name.

 

Nathaniel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His father was telling the driver not to let him out of the carriage until they reached the ship for Kirkland. Once there, someone else would take over, hauling him further into the Free Marches. He should have left as soon as he’d made his decision. He should have left under the cover of darkness. Now, it was too late. “Oh, Maker!” he gasped, a sudden realization hitting him. “She’s going to hate me. She’s going to think I broke my promise. Andraste’s blood, I _have_ to find a way to get a message to her.”


End file.
